


You're The Best I Can Do

by 5507



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1980s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bottom Steve Harrington, Car Sex, Depression, Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Gay Billy Hargrove, Homophobic Language, I need to sort my life out lmao, Internalized Homophobia, Lots of feelings holy fuck, Lots of these characters are more minor, Love, M/M, POV Alternating, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Rimming, Slow Burn, Swearing, Top Billy Hargrove, Underage Drinking, Violence, i love these two so much, i'm not sure how many chapters this will be so buckle up! i promise i'll finish it though, mum steve, stranger things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5507/pseuds/5507
Summary: Billy Hargrove is so, desperately lost. He has no strings to cling to anymore. Every day feels like a Monday.Steve Harrington is so, desperately alone. He has love to give but nowhere to put it. Every day feels like a Monday.Somehow, these boys find each other in the same, or similar situations. It's a matter of figuring out their feelings. It's a matter of a whole lot of whisky, a whole lot of weed, a whole lot of unresolved feelings and a whole lot of sex. It's a matter of digging each other out of their own versions of hell that they have created for themselves, or that have been created for them.And they do it - but every love story has a beginning, a middle and an ending. Billy and Steve start here.





	1. Isolation

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first Harringrove fic! I've been wanting to do one for soooo long so here it is! I will leave my tumblr if I publish another chapter (which I probably will, I want this to go somewhere). I love these two boys so much and wanted to share my view of them. Please please leave kudos and comments! I'll perhaps even make a playlist too :). Enjoy this introduction xx
> 
> The title is from the song "Huggin' & Kissin'" by Big Black Delta, a very Harringrove song <3

1\. 

If the sky was grey, so was Billy. If the sky was blue, so was Billy. If the sky was dark, so were Billy’s feelings. This went on. And on and on. And on and on and on. Every day in Hawkins it went on. The sky mirrored how he felt. Realistically, he should’ve felt happy when the sky was blue, as it was summer, and every other normal eighteen year old loved the summer. But the summer just reminded Billy of California. Reminded him of the life he left behind. Of the surf, the palm trees, the white hot sand, the glimpse of a masculine figure. He was impossible. He could not be happy - every single ounce of melatonin was left far, far behind him with the surf and sand, etcetera. Billy was hanging on by the smallest, thinnest thread when he arrived in Hawkins, all those months ago. He now had no strings on him. No small, ribbony threads to keep him hanging on. 

Billy Hargrove had given up. 

The inevitability of this happening was always in the back of his mind, even when he was faking fun at some lame house party thrown by Tommy H. Especially if he was faking fun at some lame house party thrown by Tommy H. They made him feel empty. That’s why he quit attending them. He already had too much emptiness to bear - an inescapable hollow feeling that dragged him down, head first. Usually into his bed, after a long night of drinking and smoking by himself at the quarry. His Camaro was his best friend, along with his right hand. He was horrifically and unavoidably alone. He could not escape his own emptiness. 

The weakening will to live somehow kept him alive. He knew that if he snuffed it, no one would miss him. His Camaro would, maybe. Would miss the plastic hook ups he’d have in the backseat with some nameless girl from Billy’s chemistry class. Would miss the tears that would fall from Billy’s eyes to the steering wheel he had his face pressed to, sobbing, all too often. Would miss the blood that would gush from Billy’s open wounds that Neil liked to give him every month or so. Reminders. But he also knew that if he snuffed it, there would be no one to vouch for Max on the off chance Neil decided to use her as his personal punching bag instead of Billy. 

Billy cared about Max. He hated her with a passion as fiery as the brat’s red hair, but he cared about her. She was almost all he had left of his mother, save for a few crumpled pictures of her he kept at the bottom of his sock drawer. He knew that he needed to be there for her, because despite all the yelling, spiteful glares and hateful comments they exchanged regularly, she would do the exact same for him. 

He hoped that day would not come. 

Today, like all days it seemed, was a Monday. Billy felt no different to any other shit day. He didn’t wag school anymore - he was even too bored for that. So he attended school. Got good grades. Joined the basketball team. Ran cross country (and won - by a mile). He felt normal, and he knew that was exactly what he hated so much. Billy knew he wasn’t normal, but he did not do anything to change his life to make it different. 

Billy did have a non normality about him, though. Something he had pushed deep back down inside him ever since he arrived in Hawkins. He had tried to leave it behind in California, but he knew. You can take the boy out of California, but you can’t take the California out of the boy. 

Billy Hargrove liked boys. He liked dick. He liked taking it up the ass and he liked giving it too. He liked boys. He liked men. He was a faggot, as his father liked to constantly remind him, usually between punches. That was why they left Cali. Billy was too careless and let a boy come into his bedroom and his father had found them at it. There was a large part of Billy’s brain that would never forget seeing the other boy’s brains smashed against his bedside table.

They had left the next morning. 

The repression of his sexuality came in the form of fucking almost every girl in his year the week he arrived in Hawkins. He did it, in an attempt both to convince his father he was changing, and in an attempt to convince himself. But nevertheless, Billy missed boys. He missed their rough stubble against his cheek, his neck. He missed their strong arms holding him down, holding him close. He wanted what he knew all too well he couldn’t have - which he knew was at least something that was normal. 

It was a Monday. Billy pulled his Camaro into the school car park on this Monday morning. Parked it in his usual spot, got out and lit a cigarette. Taking a long drag from it, he surveyed the car park like a hawk, his curls blowing into his eyes. He saw Tommy H’s fat ugly car parked on a wonky angle. Typical, that boy really was an idiot. He saw Carol’s sickeningly maroon convertible parked a little too close to Tommy’s, as per usual. His eyes drifted over to Steve Harrington’s Beamer that had just pulled in.

The boy in question was getting out of the car just as Billy was looking over. Harrington’s hair was blowing into his face but he somehow made it look like a fucking shampoo advertisement. Billy snorted and dismissed the thought, before turning his head to look at the bunch of giggling girls that were looking his way, leaning against the bike stand. He rolled his eyes and threw his half smoked cigarette onto the ground, crushing it wth the toe of his boot. He locked the Camaro and began making his way into what would no doubt be a dreary fucking day. What’s new.


	2. Close Quarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter! please please please leave comments and kudos! lmk if y'all want the playlist i've made for this story and for harringrove in general!! tysm for reading & feel free too bookmark!!! xxxxx enjoy

Billy absolutely could not with today. He absolutely could not with most days, but today seemed to really want to fuck him up the ass with a pinecone. He’d forgotten his basketball shoes and they had training after school for two hours - the coach was an asshole. Billy really was not in the mood to play basketball in his clunky big boots, but he really had no other choice. Going home wasn’t appealing at all, and neither was the idea of breaking his ankles at practice. It was way too cold to go to the quarry, so he settled with staying the extra two hours at school, dealing with the possibility of some broken ankles by the end of training.

Billy’s bad mood was only worsened by the fact that he wasn’t playing well today. He would’ve liked to blame it on the shoes but he knew that wasn’t it. They weren’t really weighing him down that badly. He was just out of it, and coach let him know. Called him all sorts of names and made all the other boys laugh at Billy, including ex-King Steve the prissy haircare princess. This rubbed him the wrong way and he made sure to barge his shoulder right into Steve’s ribs the next time the taller boy was going for a shot. 

“FUCK you Hargrove. You’re a fucking fuck” was the insult that came his way from the boy who was lying on the gym floor, clutching his side, his eyes squinting up at Billy.

Billy leant down, offering his hand out to Steve. Unsurprisingly, the injured boy didn’t take it.

“Really, Harrington? That’s the best you can do?” Billy retorted coldly.

“Thought I’d leave the rest to coach. You are a fucking fuck though, Billy.” Steve glared up at him from his position on the floor.

Billy ignored the fact that the sound of his name on Steve’s lips made him feel some kind of way.

“HARGROVE GET OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU FAT LARD!” was ‘the rest’ from the coach. 

So Billy did. He ripped off his team shirt and threw it right at Harrington’s stupid haircare head and stormed across the gym, goosebumps forming up his back on his bare skin. He could feel Harrington’s eyes on him as he flung open the exit doors, so without turning back Billy flipped them all off and left. 

Okay, so maybe ripping off his shirt was an overreaction on his behalf, but it was his first impulse reaction and he barely regretted it as he pulled on his Metallica shirt and jeans in the locker room, got all of his shit and left. The drive home was eerie and he wasn’t looking forward to explaining to his father why he had been kicked off the basketball team.

 

Billy took the next day off. And the next. He lay in bed, aching and cold, accepting any insults Neil threw at him from the doorway. 

Billy had to tell Neil about the basketball team. The man was going to find out sooner or later and a small part of Billy had hoped that if he heard it from Billy himself the consequences would not be as bad.

Billy now knew his small piece of hope was a fucking waste. He told himself this over and over in bed in those two days he took off. A black eye and a couple broken fingers was what Neil told him he ‘deserved’ for being such a ‘fucking selfish careless fag’. Billy just wished his step-mother wouldn’t watch from her doorway. He wish she’d just block her ears and turn away. He hated knowing she was watching as he got pummelled, just as much as he hated the fact that he knew Max could hear.

On Thursday Billy parked his Camaro in the school car park (it still felt like a fucking Monday). He got out and didn’t bother to pause to survey the schoolyard. He made a beeline through the wind to the entrance of school and went straight to history. He loathed walking around with his hand bandaged and his face looking like a panda. It was like Neil had marked him as some sort of beacon that radiated shame. And he felt it. He felt shame - self hatred that would outlive the oldest man. 

The day dragged on and Billy didn’t feel truly awake until the end of lunchtime, when Steve Harrington approached him in the corridor. The boy seemed fine - the shoulder ram probably didn’t even bruise him. Billy made a mental note to use that against the taller boy at some point later. Harrington’s face was impassive when he approached Billy but it got more and more wide-eyed as he got closer. Soon they were face to face and Harrington looked shocked. Billy glared at him as much as possible through his swollen black eye.

“Morning, Harrington” Billy bared his teeth at the haircare boy. 

“I- It’s the afternoon, Hargrove.” 

Billy liked the way Steve said both his names. No matter what the context. He pushed this down - or as far down as it would get for now. 

“And? Feels like the morning to me, sunshine. Tell me, did you deep condition your hair last night?” 

Billy’s stab at Harrington clearly got to the taller boy, as he subconsciously ran a large hand through the fluff of hair on his head. 

“Hargrove, I just want to-“

“No, seriously Harrington, where do you get your conditioner?”

“Hargrove-“

“Your mom?”

“HARGROVE” Harrington bellowed, and the entire corridor echoed. Billy was somewhat relieved that it was empty. 

“What, cunt?” Billy snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Steve snorted at Billy’s curse but continued.

“Coach wants me to tell you that he wants you back on the team. Says you’re too valuable to lose. He’s willing to forgive and forget if you attend the tournament this Saturday.”

Billy wanted to tell Harrington to fuck off and quit having him on but he also knew Harrington had no reason to lie to him about this. 

“You serious?” he said anyway, squinting as much as his puffy eye would allow.

“Yeah. See you at training tomorrow afternoon, Hargrove” Steve began walking backwards awkwardly. Billy watched, almost curiously. 

“Oh” Steve continued, “and ice your eye.”

Billy glared down the corridor at the retreating boy. 

“Watch out behind you, Harrington. You can never be too careful.”

~STEVE~

Hargrove’s words rang in Steve’s ears as he made his way to last period english. ‘You can never be too careful.’ The fuck was that supposed to mean? The tanned boy was clearly losing his shit, or rather he had been for a while. Steve couldn’t help but wonder who he fought to get those injuries, and couldn’t help but wonder what the other guy looked like. He doodles on his workbook all period and waits for the bell. Just as he does every single day. Christ, everyday felt like a Monday to him. It drove him fucking crazy. 

The piercing ringing that releases him from the confines of school rings through the daze in his ears and Steve drops his stuff into his bag and leaves. He stops at the bathroom and by the time he’s out, the corridors are mostly vacated. He wanders out into the car park and pauses when he sees Hargrove and Max having a rather heated argument by the Camaro. Steve has honestly no idea how they are related - it’s a mystery he’ll most likely never solve. The stocky Hargrove was leaning against the car with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. Steve was just behind the large oak that was in-between the entrance of the main building and the car park, so he was slightly out of view. Max was gesturing wildly and, from the looks fit, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. 

Steve knew that Hargrove’s broken fingers and black eye were probably from some street fight, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Hargrove didn’t wear them like trophies like he wore the injuries Steve gave him those months ago - he wore these like he was ashamed. A flame of curiosity lit in Steve’s chest. 

Steve was startled out of his daydreaming by the sound of another engine entering the carpark. With a jolt he realised it was Jonathan’s beat up car. It pulled in beside Hargrove, and Max jumped in instantly. The car reversed out, not a word exchanged between Jonathan and Hargrove. Steve watched as Hargrove watched Jonathan leave. The tan boy waited until the car was out of his sight before he collapsed with his head in his arms on the roof his Camaro.

A drawn out yell came from his direction and he banged the top of the car with his fist. Steve was frozen, watching this boy go through several emotions at once. Hargrove seemed to settle on one, and he slid down the side of the car and sat against the driver’s door, face in his broken hands. 

Before Steve could stop himself, his legs began to walk him straight towards the collapsed Billy Hargrove. 

Hargrove heard him coming and jumped up instantly, a look of utter and complete disgust covering his face. 

“The fuck you doing Harrington? Sneaking around? Eavesdropping?” Hargrove snapped, rubbing his good eye with his good hand. Steve could still tell he had been teary. 

“I-“

“Get out of my sight, asshole”

Billy was turning and opening the door to climb in. Steve’s body jerked him forward and he felt his arm shoot out and grab Hargrove’s rock solid bicep. Steve gulped.

Of all the bad decisions Steve could make, this one was pretty up there. Hargrove could beat him into a pulp, that much they had established. Steve wasn’t even making decisions for himself any longer - his body was making them all for him. 

To Steve’s immense surprise, Hargrove didn’t deck him across the jaw. The boy just turned his head and looked Steve right in the eyes. 

“What is it, Harrington? The fuck do you want? Wanna know who jumped me?” 

“No.”

“Then what the fuck do you want?” 

Steve paused, and let go of Hargrove’s arm. 

“I hope you’re okay.” 

With that, Steve turned and walked over to his car. He drove out of the car park, allowing himself one glance at Hargrove on his way. The other boy was standing exactly where Steve had left him, except he was touching the bicep that Steve had been holding. Steve stared determinedly straight ahead and speeded home. 

Steve Harrington did not sleep that night. His restlessness was always his downfall, but this night seemed to be worse than the rest. He tossed and he turned, but he never slept a single wink. This was apparent the next day when he looked at himself in the mirror and all he saw was two dark circles around his eyes, almost enough to rival Hargrove’s shiner. 

Friday. The last day of the week. Another week that felt just like any other. Steve walked through the school corridors feeling like a mouse in a huge maze. He was never accompanied when walking from one class to another - unless Nancy or Jonathan felt bad for him and went out of their way to do so. Even if they did, he would just feel even more like a mouse. 

His white Nikes squeaked in the empty corridor. He should be in english but the class was at the other end of school to his locker and he’d just dropped his off shit in it. He meandered into the boys bathroom to his left, coming across none other than Billy Hargrove checking himself out in the mirror. Hargrove was so wrapped up in himself he didn’t hear Steve come in - until the latter snorted at the sight of the vain, tan boy in the mirror. Hargrove looked up and made eye contact with Steve in the mirror. There was a pause and the mullethead twisted the hot tap. 

“You got any spare hairspray, Harrington? I hear you use the bitch kind” Hargrove sneered, not making eye contact. 

Steve hadn’t moved. He didn’t even need the bathroom, he had just wandered in aimlessly. There was also no way he would take a piss in front of Hargrove. No fucking way. 

“Fuck up, Hargrove” was his lame reply. Steve knew it was feeble but he really had no effort and even if he did he didn’t want to waste it on something as petty as an insult in reply to Hargrove’s. 

“Really, princess” Hargrove turned to lean against the basin, facing Steve. “You gotta learn something better than using the f word.” Hargrove poked out his bottom lip and his tone of voice made him sound like he was addressing a 4 year old, not an eighteen year old teenage boy. This frustrated Steve because this was exactly how his father talked to him. He had enough of this treatment at home, he didn’t need any more of it at school. 

Steve swung first, for the record. His punch hit home too, right across Hargrove’s precious golden cheekbone. The boy staggered back, but he took the punch, almost too well. Hargrove looked into Steve’s eyes and in the blink of an eye Steve was shoved and held against the tiled wall of the bathroom. Hargrove’s arm was pressed against his throat and Steve found he couldn’t move a single muscle. He just blinked. Blinked into Hargrove’s pale blue eyes. 

“Watch out behind you, Harrington” Hargrove hissed, looking right into Steve’s eyes. “You can. Never. Be. Too. Careful.”

Steve stared, the repetition of what Hargrove had said to him earlier that week ringing in his ears. Was it a threat? Steve couldn’t tell, but he honestly didn’t want to hang around to figure it out. Steve pushed against the bulk that was Hargrove but the tan boy didn’t budge. 

“Look, Hargrove, I’m sorry I hit you. You just caught me at the wrong time” Steve muttered, averting his eyes from Hargrove’s intense gaze. “Can you just let me fuck outta here?”

Steve looked back to Hargrove to find the golden boy’s eyes drifting down towards Steve’s mouth. His breath cut short and as soon as Hargrove noticed Steve looking he looked away immediately. 

“Please?”

Hargrove glared up at Steve one last time before releasing him. Steve let out the breath he had been holding in and stared. 

“Get out of my sight Harrington” 

Steve obeyed.


	3. Submerged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So fucking sorry this has taken ages !!!!!! It's short but I will update soon I promise !!! xxxxx

Steve did not know how to take that encounter. Hargrove’s behaviour lately had been unusual, that much could be said, but he just couldn’t explain how it made him feel. 

About two months ago, Hargrove had apologised to him for bashing his face in that night. Steve had shrugged his apology off because he guessed that Hargrove was fucking with him, but the mullethead has looked Steve right in the eyes and seriously apologised - he even looked and sounded like he regretted what he had done. Steve, shocked, had forgiven Hargrove. He didn’t know why - the boy hardly deserved it - but the apology was so sincere he basically had no choice. 

After that him and Hargrove had been on better terms - but that didn’t mean much. They still threw insults at each other. They still shoved each other around at basketball training. They still resented each other - but Steve felt as if it was different. He couldn’t put a finger on it but he knew there had been a shift. Of what, he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he wanted to know. 

His parents were out again. As usual. Steve put on the television and opened a beer can. The cool, thin metal of the can seeped into the pores on his fingers and he shivered, staring at the wall above the light coming from the screen. He felt alone. Horribly alone. He had no one to call - Dustin was at Mike’s, some secret party meeting. Nancy was off with Jonathan, no doubt, and he didn’t want to disturb Hopper’s shift. 

So he sat there, staring. And staring. And staring. Eventually his beer can wasn’t cold any longer. It remained in his grasp until he drained it and crushed it, throwing it aside. He dragged himself off the sofa and to the mini fridge, grabbing out another can. As an afterthought, he took out the whole six pack. 

On his 4th can, he was beginning to feel buzzy - he had nothing else to do. His leg was shaking and the television’s entertainment was beginning to be a lot funnier than it should’ve been. 

It was only when he took the time to look down and six crushed cans of beer littered the floor, that he took time to consider his present state. He felt woozy, and his eyes couldn’t focus on the television screen. 

“Fuck” 

He stumbled up, banging into the coffee table and smacking his kneecap on it. 

“Fuck!” 

He all but ricocheted his way to the back door, which he took multiple attempts to open. When he eventually had it flung open, he stumbled out the door to the side of the pool, and stared into its shimmering blue depths. The night’s lights illuminated the tiles on the pool, the water warping them into strange shapes that entranced Steve. 

He stood, victorious, poolside. 

Suddenly, the world took a turn and the water surged towards him. He found himself fully emerged in the blue, with the floor of the pool coming closer and closer. 

Steve found that he couldn’t move, or more importantly, breathe. He inhaled a large gulp of water that went straight to the back of his throat. 

Huh. If this was what dying felt like, he didn’t really mind it. Save from the blood rushing in his ears and the overwhelming cloudiness in his chest, he was quite peaceful. 

He felt himself fading in and out of consciousness. His dizziness had gone thought; that was the last positive thought Steve had before he blacked out. He felt the water change and hands grip his underarms, but was out to it before anything else was seen, heard or felt. 

White lights. Plastic lights. White, plastic lights, and the overwhelming smell of gumminess and chlorine. Nothing was in focus and Steve felt his eyes go wide and his lungs fan out, searching for the source of the clean, fresh oxygen that was filtering into them. His chest heaved, his hands scrabbling to find something to grasp. A hand, fingers and a palm found his left hand and he whipped his head around.

BILLY

Harrington looked fucking awful. All the veins in his eyes looked like they had popped and were bleeding, contrasting terribly with the white of his eyes. His whole face was drained of colour and the scattering of moles along his cheeks and neck stood out. 

“Hargrove?” Harrington choked out, gasping for precious air.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants”

Harrington laughed, or tried to, because his grip on Billy’s hand tightened and his chest caved in. A nurse rushed in when Billy called, and pumped something into Harrington’s arm to calm him down. Once he had, Harrington turned back to Billy. 

“What happened?”

“Dunno. Was driving past yours and saw you jump into the pool all fucked up. I sort of stopped and waited, you didn’t come back up for ages so I got you out.”

“You? Got me out?”

“Yeah, I did”

“Oh” Harrington stared at him with those godforsaken doe eyes. Fuck. 

“The world is a funny place, Billy” Steve rested his head back oh his pillow and fell asleep almost instantly. 

Which is a good thing, and it was a good thing that they were in a hospital, because Billy’s heart basically went into cardiac arrest.

“Billy?” he whispered to himself. 

“Since when am I ‘Billy’”? 

Billy stared down at their intertwined hands and his breath stopped short. 

“Not you too” snapped the nurse, and stalked out.

Despite everything, despite the bruising across his back and ribs, despite the world he lived in and the shit he would go back to in the morning, Billy felt a smile creep onto his lips. The first genuine one in a long while. 

He hoped it wasn’t the last.


	4. An Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has gone AWOL - Billy literally cannot fucking deal with it, no matter how hard he tries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck this is messy but i had fun writing this!!!! update soon!!! please leave kudos and a comment and bookmark, it means so much <3

Billy knew that Harrington wouldn’t remember the pool and the hospital. The boy was way too out of it. A part of Billy wished that he would remember it, but another knew it was definitely for the best. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to the hot feeling pooling at the bottom of his stomach, because he fucking knew what it was, and he was not happy with it. He fucking ignored it. It could quite literally be the death of him and he was terrified. He hated to think of it for too long and he would rot in his own brain if he did. He had experienced the repercussions of his sexuality and his actions back in California, and he would not do that again for about a billion years. It was safe to say that the way Harrington made him feel scared him shitless. He refused to think about it - he refused to think about running a hand through Harrington’s fluffy hair, refused to think about the boy with his shirt off, drenched in sweat and laughing at something dumb Tommy had just done. He refused. 

Billy’s refrain from impulsive decisions meant that he forced himself to focus on things other than Harrington. He threw himself into the basketball training that was happening nearly four times a week, in preparation for the Indiana State Regional. Hawkins’ team had come third once and that had been a miracle so Billy was determined to force the team into propelling themselves into first place. He knew the other Indiana teams would be good but he had played California basketball teams. This would be a piece of cake for him. 

The tournament was in three weeks and coach was pushing them harder than ever. Billy lived for it, a fire in his lungs making him play better than ever. Coach was noticing too, no longer yelling insults at him but praise. The rest of the team seemed to relish it - Billy played well both with them and against them, and it certainly gave them more motivation to push themselves. 

Except for Harrington. 

Billy had tried not to notice the boy’s absence, as it was distracting and he didn’t want to be distracted at this point in time. He was thriving far too much. It was when he passed that girl Stacey in the corridor, and overheard her talking about how her and Harrington had hooked up a week before and no one had seen him since her party (Billy made a note that he totally wasn’t invited), which was when he “fucked her so good she almost passed out”. Billy definitely tried to forget that as soon as he had heard it. 

So, Harrington had gone AWOL. Billy internally screamed at himself, trying his hardest not to think about it. Where had the preppy boy gone? And why the fuck would he hook up with Stacey? She was pretty, had platinum blonde hair and a fair spray tan, sure, but Harrington could do better. 

Billy caught himself thinking like this and turned around, walking straight out the school doors and to his Camaro. He sped off in the direction of the quarry, thinking only of the pack of cigarettes in the glove box and his pure hatred for his own feelings. 

Not that he had feelings for Harrington. He wasn’t the type to have a fucking schoolboy crush. He knew that he had absolutely no chance with Harrington, but the way the boy made him feel was infuriating. Billy couldn’t tell if he wanted to push Steve against the shower walls and fuck the shit out of him, or curl up in his freckly arms and cry about his fucking shit life. He positively loathed himself for both, he refused to think of himself as a weak person. He wasn’t . His father had made sure of that, yet he was still the fag that fucked a boy in California and got caught by his father. 

California had been interesting for Billy. He had enjoyed the freedom of it - the endless sand, sky and water, the people, the love. Coming to Hawkins from California was a shitshow and he knew nothing would ever be the same. He sat on the bonnet of his car, smoking the pack and staring at the seemingly endless quarry. He liked coming here - he would stop the car halfway down the drive to the bottom, and if he felt like jumping to an end, he could jump, feel the adrenalin rush of possible fatality, yet still survive. It was enough for Billy. 

With one cigarette left, Billy felt that rush of adrenalin. He pulled off his denim jacket and white tank, jeans, shoes and socks. He had spare underwear in the trunk of the Camaro. Leaving his clothes and almost empty pack of cigs on the bonnet of his beloved car, Billy turned to face the some 40 meters he had until the edge of the road. He took a deep inhalation and sprinted to the edge and flung himself off. 

The fall sent arrows of humane fear through his heart, and the air rushed past him like a hundred daggers. His eyes pressed shut and a grin on his face, Billy’s body felt a rush of happiness that was rare - he would be dead soon, here, yes, it was coming, almost, almost, ALMOST -

His body hit the murky water with a rush of cold and he was submerged in the green-brown water. Coming up for a breath and filling his lungs up with cool air, Billy opened his eyes and swam away from the edge of the cliff. The peace he felt with being alive was temporary but he was glad that he felt it. It reminded him who he was - but also that he did not want to be here. Billy swam for a while. 

“Hey!”

The yell jolted him out of his head - a yell coming from direction of where he had just jumped. He spun around in the water, looking up to the edge of the cliff. 

Harrington stood there, staring down at Billy in the water.

What the fuck was Harrington doing here? 

STEVE

What the fuck was Hargrove doing here? 

Steve had stood out of sight as the stocky boy had sat on the bonnet of his obnoxious Camaro and smoked 7 cigarettes before all but ripping off most of his attire and sprinting to the edge of the road leading down the quarry and throwing himself off. Steve was shocked at first - watching Hargrove’s body move like that had awoken the sleeping monster in his chest that was usually up and at em whenever Hargrove was away. The boy was ripped - Steve already knew that. But seeing him like that, outside practice? Fucking scary how much Steve wanted to touch, be held, hold. 

He had waited a few minutes before crossing the space to the edge of the cliff and yelling down at Hargrove’s swimming form. He didn’t know why he didn’t just go back to the Beamer hidden away in the trees, but curiosity and want took over. 

Hargrove had turned quickly in the water, and was now staring up at Steve. The silence was almost deafening and Steve wanted to leave - this was somehow far too confrontational. He hadn’t been at school for a week and he didn’t want to be found - Hargrove knowing about his hiding wouldn’t do him any favours whatsoever. Still, he stood there, looking down at the wet mullethead, wishing for a closer look. He knew what Hargrove looked like soaked - from the showers - but that didn’t quench his want to see it again. He hadn’t seen in for a week. He wished- 

“What are you waiting for, Harrington?”

Hargrove’s yell startled Steve. 

“What?”

“Are you jumping or what?” 

Steve and Billy stared at each other from afar. Before Steve knew what was happening, he felt his arms pull off his jacket and shirt. Pants, shoes and socks. He backed away from the edge, took a deep breath, then jumped. 

The water hit Steve’s body COLD and he swam back up to the surface, breathing in precious oxygen and used one had to help himself tread water, the other to slick his hair back and out of his eyes. 

He turned towards the direction he thought Hargrove was in, and got a fright to see that Hargrove was right in front of him.

Steve took in the boy’s face, dripping with water and fucking annoyingly, exquisitely beautiful. His hair fell around his neck, dark with water and dripping onto his mostly submerged shoulders. Fuck, the man was a god.

“Where have you been, Harrington?” Hargrove asked Steve, his strong arms keeping him above the water. 

Steve stared into his piercing eyes, not knowing what to say. He wanted to tell Billy how beautiful he was, but he knew that there was no way he could get away with that. 

“Taking a break”

Billy laughed at that.

“Taking a break? Well damn Harrington. If only we were all that lucky”

Steve shrugged, watching Billy as he got closer, closer and closer. 

“You could take one too, you know.”

“I could?”

“Yeah”

“And what makes you so sure?”

Steve paused. “Run away.”

Hargrove threw his head back and let out a laugh. When he looked back into Steve’s eyes, he was even closer.

“Oh, I wish. You have quite the imagination, Harrington.”

Steve smiled a small smile. “We can all dream. No matter how unrealistic”

Billy’s face was solemn. His eyes traced Steve’s whole face as if he was memorising it.

“You’re quite something, Harrington.”

“I am?”

BILLY

He had no fucking idea what he was doing. NO fucking idea, but he knew what he wanted and he wanted it, now. Everything he had told himself not to feel was coming crashing down on him and fuck, if he didn’t kiss Harrington right now he might just drown the pair of them - if he couldn’t have Harrington, no one could. Billy hated himself. 

“I am?” Billy heard Harrington repeat. The boy was almost asking for a kiss - his eyes tracing the features of Billy’s face and dropping to his lips. 

“Fuck yeah, Steve. You’re something else”

Steve’s breath hitched and Billy took his chances and leapt at the opportunity that was given to him. 

He pushed himself through the water and chest to chest with Steve, putting a hand on the back of the other boy’s head, pulling Steve’s lips to meet his own. 

A series of explosions went off in Billy’s heart, stomach and lungs. This is what he lived for, what he knew was oh so right but oh so wrong. 

Steve moaned into Billy’s mouth and Billy felt hands coming to his shoulders to pull him closer to Harrington. His heart was hiccuping and he felt Steve’s tongue against his lips, and obligingly opened his mouth for the boy. Their tongues brushed and Harrington moaned again, Billy putting a hand on the side of his face and angling them so they could get a better angle. Billy swiped his tongue against the roof of Steve’s mouth and soon they broke apart. 

The two boys stared at each other - still in their embrace - well aware anyone could stumble upon them at any second. 

Billy was in bliss - and as Steve pulled his mouth to Billy’s again this bliss increased to a heavenly extent. 

Billy didn’t know how long they kissed for, but it was long enough for his dick to get very interested. He felt Steve under the water against his thigh, and as he did, Harrington broke away. 

“Billy, I-“

There was a lengthy pause as the two boys, flushed, looked at each other. 

“Look Harrington. I’m not gonna make you do anything”

“I know, it’s just-“

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just go.” 

Steve looked apologetic as Billy waved him in the direction of the shore. His eyebrows were pushed together and he looked so conflicted that Billy wanted to look away. 

Steve pulled them together again - it was a fleeting kiss - and in no way chaste. 

When Harrington pulled away he didn’t look at Billy and swam straight towards the shore. 

Billy didn’t watch him go. Instead he found himself on his back, floating, starfished, staring at the sky. 

Content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed! i'll update soon, like, leave kudos, comment, bookmark! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Leave ur comments! Kudos! Love x


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